


Sherlock: How I Found Out About Mycroft Holmes

by IBegToDreamAndDiffer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Humor, M/M, Mild Language, Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-23
Updated: 2012-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-30 00:52:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IBegToDreamAndDiffer/pseuds/IBegToDreamAndDiffer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a Mystrade story told from John’s point of view with some Johnlock thrown in. Five times John Watson wondered about the elder Holmes brother. And one time he didn’t have to any more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock: How I Found Out About Mycroft Holmes

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss, and Steven Moffat. The original characters are the property of Arthur Conan Doyle. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story.

**-5**

I sat on the couch right up against Sherlock Holmes. For months now I’d been avoiding physical contact with my flatmate because of the feelings that shot straight to my... well, my cock. But now I didn’t have to. After last night I was able to hold Sherlock’s hand, his face, everything. And Sherlock loved it. He loved me.

Bit of a shock to tell you the truth. I’d always thought Sherlock was asexual, or at least gay, but he’d never expressed an interest in me. Well, other than finding me interesting. Over the past year we’d moved from strangers to flatmates to colleagues to friends and now we were lovers. Or boyfriends as Sherlock put it. He’d never had an actual boyfriend and grinned every time he said the word.

We were watching Doctor Who and though Sherlock said he hated it I got the feeling he was warming to the show. David Tennant dressed a bit like him and they were both exotically good-looking. Since realising I wanted Sherlock I’d been more attracted to men than ever before. I’d never realised I had such a broad taste in... well, men.

There was a polite tap on the door and Sherlock groaned. ‘What?’ I asked.

He scowled at the TV and folded his arms, suddenly blocking me out. ‘Of course now, he just has to know everything.’

‘Sherlock?’ I questioned but he continued to look at the TV with that child-like pout I actually found cute. I sighed and stood to answer the door when there was another knock. Honestly, what had got him in such a foul mood?

My question was answered when I pulled the door open to reveal Mycroft Holmes. The elder Holmes brother was dressed in a tailored three-piece suit as usual. I wondered if the man slept in them, or had three-piece pyjamas. There were little umbrella’s on his tie and the real thing in his right hand. He smiled politely at me, like usual, and his cold blue eyes raked over me.

‘Dr Watson, I do hope you’re having a good morning.’

‘Yes, it’s... fine,’ I answered. Mycroft Holmes had always intimidated me and it didn’t help that the man knew it. He was as striking as his brother, not in looks but in the general way he held himself. He wasn’t as good-looking as Sherlock but something about him made him attractive. The suits were perfect, expensive, and told everybody he was rich. The umbrella he carried just made him seem taller and leaner. He radiated power, dominance, and demanded your respect. He was a dangerous man and knew it.

‘Are you going to invite me in?’ Mycroft asked and I swallowed.

‘Er, sorry, right.’ I stepped back and Mycroft’s shoulder brushed against me. It sent a small tingle through my body and I nearly groaned. I’ll admit that Mycroft Holmes is a handsome and charming man but I wasn’t attracted to him like I was Sherlock. Still, there was something in the way he stared at you. Like Sherlock he could read anything.

I shut the door and turned to see Sherlock and Mycroft sitting across from each other. Both had their legs folded, Sherlock with his arms crossed and Mycroft fiddling with his umbrella.

‘What do you want?’ Sherlock finally demanded. I realised it was a good time to make tea and disappeared into the kitchen. I could still hear them as I boiled the kettle.

‘I just want to see how you are, brother,’ Mycroft said and I could hear the smirk in his voice. ‘Congratulations.’

‘On what?’

‘You know what, Sherlock.’

I could imagine my boyfriend glaring at his brother. They were like two dogs, circling each other. At any minute one would snap and I wondered who’d kill the other first. Sherlock was certainly faster and would probably jump to anger quicker. But Mycroft was a mystery to me. He could be a Government trained assassin for all I knew.

‘I’m glad to see you so happy, brother,’ Mycroft continued, ‘you are a lucky man.’

‘How so?’

‘You have someone as lovely as John.’

I nearly dropped my mug. I’d never before heard Mycroft use my first name. And the elder Holmes had actually complimented me... and he sounded _sincere_. Okay, so I sleep with Sherlock and the world falls apart. Right, alright, there was bound to be some fallout.

‘Yes, John _is_ lovely,’ Sherlock said and I knew that now _he_ was smirking. ‘He’s quite lovely, isn’t he, Mycroft?’

Mycroft cleared his throat as I entered the lounge room carrying my tea. Mycroft’s eyes jumped to mine and he smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes.

‘I must be going,’ he said suddenly and stood. I glanced at Sherlock who was grinning in triumph. Triumph about what? ‘Goodbye, Dr Watson,’ Mycroft said, ‘I’ll let myself out.’

‘Right, bye.’ I watched Mycroft leave and turned to Sherlock. ‘What was that about?’

‘Oh, my dear brother just wanted to come and see the aftermath of our getting together sexually,’ Sherlock said drily. ‘He was hoping I’d be a little more embarrassed.’ He looked at me quickly. ‘Not embarrassed about sleeping with you, John, but embarrassed about him knowing.’

‘No, I get that,’ I said and sat on the couch beside him. He raised an arm to wrap around me and I smiled. ‘Your brother is weird. Why’d he leave suddenly? I thought he’d stick around and tease you a bit more.’

Sherlock’s smirk was back and he fast-forwarded through a boring part of the show until David Tennant was back on screen.

‘Sherlock?’

‘What?’

‘Why are you smiling?’

‘I’m not,’ Sherlock said and his grin widened.

‘Sherlock, what is it? Is there something you know about Mycroft?’ I sighed. ‘Why can’t you two get along?’

Sherlock just chuckled. ‘You have nothing to worry about, John.’

‘I’m afraid you two are going to murder each other.’

‘We won’t.’

I rolled my eyes and he smiled.

 

**-4**

The next time I saw the elder Holmes was three weeks later. Sherlock was off at Bart’s no doubt striking a dead body with a ruler. I was flicking through various websites when there was a tap on the door.

I opened it to find Mycroft and smiled. ‘Good afternoon.’

‘Hello, Dr Watson,’ Mycroft said politely. ‘May I come in?’

‘Sherlock’s not here,’ I said but Mycroft came in anyway. He seated himself in my arm chair and I tried not to scowl as I grabbed my laptop. ‘Can I get you anything?’

‘I’m quite alright.’

I sat on the couch and looked at the elder Holmes. He had a thick leather book on his lap I hadn’t noticed earlier. ‘How can I help you?’

‘I thought you might like to see this,’ he said and passed over the book. I took it with raised eyebrows. ‘I am sure you are aware that my brother hates having his photo taken,’ Mycroft said and I nodded. ‘I thought you’d like to take a look at that.’

I pulled the book open and smiled. They were baby pictures of Mycroft and Sherlock. They’d both been chubby kids until Sherlock had thinned down. He’d gained his high cheekbones and whippet-thin body around eight. Mycroft had been big all through university I noted as Sherlock continued to get thinner. There were a few photos of him looking like a skeleton and I guessed they were from the drugs. Towards the end he got slightly healthier.

I noted that Sherlock was scowling in each picture, even as a baby. He looked like an angel with those bright blue eyes and raven curls. But the scowl could only come from hell.

There was a warm presence beside me and I turned to see Mycroft. He smiled pleasantly and took the book from me, his smooth fingers warm on my own. He flipped through the book and said, ‘This is my favourite.’

He pointed to a picture of both him and Sherlock. Mycroft appeared to be around twenty which would make Sherlock ten. He was grinning as Mycroft held him, the elder Holmes flicking the tip of his little brother’s nose with one long finger. The joy was evident in both brothers’ eyes and was immortalised forever in a picture.

I smiled and Mycroft said, ‘It’s the only photo of Sherlock actually smiling. He seems to find it a personal insult when a camera is pointed at him.’

‘Yeah,’ I chuckled. ‘I wish I had more photos of him.’

‘Feel free to keep the photo album, Dr Watson,’ Mycroft said and I looked at him.

‘No, it must be expensive.’

‘I made it just for you,’ Mycroft explained.

‘That’s... nice...’ I said and Mycroft chuckled. I guess he heard the doubt in my voice.

‘I admit that it wasn’t just the kindness of my heart that made me create this book. Sherlock will be most... upset, that you have seen these photos.’

‘Why?’

‘He doesn’t like being photographed, Dr Watson.’

‘Right,’ I said. ‘Well, tough luck to him. I’m keeping it.’

I flicked through the book once more and settled on a page filled with pictures of people in glossy outfits. There was a tall man and woman whom I assumed to be the Holmes parents, one of Sherlock tugging at his suit, another of a few kids dancing around the two scowling brothers and a final one of Sherlock, Mycroft and another man.

The man was standing between the brothers smiling at the camera. He was wearing a deep blue suit, probably expensive, and had his arm around Mycroft’s waist. Sherlock was glaring at the man and Mycroft was scowling at Sherlock.

‘Who’s that?’ I asked, pointing at the man.

‘Oh,’ Mycroft said and I looked at him. He seemed a bit lost and I said, ‘Mycroft?’

The elder Holmes blinked and glanced up at me. A slight colour crept up his pale cheeks and he said, ‘A friend of ours, Zachariah Montenegro. We grew up with him.’

‘Sherlock doesn’t seem to like him,’ I commented.

‘No, no Sherlock liked Zachariah a lot,’ Mycroft said.

I looked at him for more of an explanation and Mycroft cleared his throat, ‘I’m afraid I must go, Dr Watson.’ He stood suddenly and I blinked as he collected his umbrella. ‘Make sure you show Sherlock the album.’ He smiled at me and opened the door. ‘Good day.’

‘Um, bye,’ I said and he left.

I stayed on the couch flicking through the album until Sherlock got home. He seemed okay but I checked him over before allowing him to hug me. I kissed him softly and he asked, ‘What’s that?’

He gestured at the album and I said, ‘Mycroft brought it over.’

A frown pulled at Sherlock’s lips and he sat swiftly beside me. He grabbed the album and tipped it open.

‘I hate him so much,’ Sherlock said as he stared down at his baby pictures.

‘They’re cute,’ I grinned and Sherlock tutted. ‘Seriously, you are.’

‘Why would Mycroft do this?’ he demanded and I laughed. ‘What?’

‘Why would he do it? Sherlock, he wanted to get a rise out of you, you know that. This little childish feud you two have going is so stupid.’

‘It’s... it’s not childish,’ Sherlock said.

I laughed. ‘Whatever you say.’

He glared at me but removed his coat, jacket and shoes. Suddenly we were both sitting on the couch looking through the album, Sherlock commenting on each photo.

‘That’s Aunt Minerva, horrible woman. Always trying to feed you broccoli.’

‘Cousin Jamus, transvestite.’

‘My cousin’s brother in law, Amelio, he enjoys men on the side.’

‘My mother and father, of course.’

‘One of Mycroft’s horrid political friends. We caught him and Uncle Michael having sex in the boat house.’

‘That’s Jasper, my third cousin. Little git.’

‘Alana is a rapper in New Zealand.’

‘Douglas works for a skateboard company in Australia.’

‘Ah, that’s Zacharias Montenegro,’ Sherlock said when I once more flipped open to the party pictures. ‘He and his sister Jemima grew up down the road from us. She was a horrible girl; she always poked me and pulled my hair.’

‘Maybe that was her way of showing her love.’

Sherlock scowled. ‘That was exactly it. She pulled me into her room when we were fifteen. Zacharias saved me and...’ He swallowed and I looked up at him.

‘Sherlock?’

‘That’s when I realised I was gay,’ he said slowly. ‘When Zacharias saved me I felt... well...’ he trailed off and cleared his throat.

I smiled and looked back at the picture. ‘Did you ever date?’

‘No, Zacharias didn’t care for me in that way.’

‘Is that why you’re scowling in this picture?’ I asked. ‘Because he has his arm around Mycroft?’

Sherlock stared at the picture for a minute before answering. ‘No, that’s not why.’

I was just as confused now as when Mycroft had spoken about the man. ‘What?’

He flipped the book shut and said, ‘Dinner?’

‘Yeah, starving.’ Sherlock stood to look for takeout menus and I watched him carefully. No... could... could Mycroft be...?

 

**-3**

Sherlock was practically sniffing the body and getting some weird looks for it. I was too used to his insane ways and stood next to DI Lestrade as Sherlock worked. Greg had his arms folded and was watching Sherlock carefully, probably trying to see what the consulting detective saw.

‘You two are together.’

I jumped and looked up at him. Greg hadn’t taken his eyes off Sherlock but there was a smile on his face.

‘I... huh?’

‘I heard you and Sherlock are together,’ Greg said and finally turned to look at me. ‘What, no kisses in public?’

Now I was blushing and Greg grinned. ‘Shut up.’

‘I never thought Sherlock would actually get a partner,’ Greg said. ‘Well, an actual boyfriend.’

‘You knew he was gay?’ I asked.

‘Yeah, I can always tell,’ Greg said. ‘You know; gay-dar.’

‘Don’t be stupid.’

‘Don’t mock my gay-dar.’

I chuckled and we went back to watching Sherlock.

‘Who told you?’ I finally asked. Now Greg was blushing. ‘What?’

‘N-nothing.’

‘For a cop you’re a horrible liar.’ He cleared his throat and I asked, ‘Who told you?’

‘Nobody.’

‘You just said–’

‘I lied.’

‘You’re an annoying sod, you know that?’

Greg smiled at me. ‘You realise I’m a cop, right? I could arrest you for slander.’

I glared at him. Nobody knew about Sherlock and me other than Mrs Hudson, Mummy Holmes, Harry, a very shocked elderly couple in the park, and–

‘ _What_?’ I gasped. Mrs Hudson would have no reason to tell Greg, nor would Mummy Holmes. He didn’t even know the old couple, they were strangers who hadn’t got a look at our faces before we ran.

But Mycroft Holmes knew everybody. And he knew everybody in Sherlock’s life. What I couldn’t figure out was why Lestrade was talking to Mycroft Holmes.

Greg looked guilty so he knew I’d guessed the truth.

‘Do you spy on Sherlock for him?’

‘What? No.’

‘Greg–’

‘It’s not spying,’ Greg said. ‘Every so often Mycroft turns up to ask about Sherlock. He just wants to know he’s okay. I don’t tell him anything he couldn’t find out himself.’

‘I don’t understand,’ I tried, ‘Mycroft _can_ find out anything. Why does he need to talk to you?’

‘He said the facts are much better when heard from someone; something about people being easier to read than paper.’

I scowled.

‘Look, I don’t tell him anything important,’ Greg said. ‘Honestly. I just give him summaries of cases Sherlock’s worked and how he is.’

‘Right,’ I muttered. ‘Wait, why did Mycroft tell you about me and Sherlock?’

‘It came up in conversation,’ Greg shrugged.

‘You have conversations?’

‘I just said that.’

‘No, you said you tell him about Sherlock,’ I reminded him. ‘Why would I come up at all?’

‘You’re the one who chases Sherlock around bloody London and shoots cabbies!’

I opened my mouth to snap back but Sherlock was coming over.

‘Mugging, the same kid who killed the last three.’

‘Right,’ Greg said and pulled out his notebook. He clicked his pen, waiting for Sherlock to continue.

But Sherlock was staring at us both and I said, ‘What?’

‘What are you two fighting about?’

‘Nothing,’ Greg said quickly and Sherlock and I both looked at him. He cleared his throat, ‘You know; lively discussion between two colleagues. So, er, the mugging?’

He looked agitated and was staring pointedly at his notebook. Sherlock rattled off his deductions with a tilt of his head as he ran his eyes over Lestrade. Finally Sherlock was done and Greg made a hasty departure, thanking us quickly.

‘What were you two arguing about?’ Sherlock asked.

‘Nothing,’ I said. He stared at me. ‘Honestly, Sherlock, I dunno.’

He didn’t seem to believe me but shrugged, letting it go. I followed my boyfriend down the street as Sherlock muttered about lunch. My stomach rumbled and I tried to push the conversation from my mind as I focused on food. But I couldn’t help but think about it.

Greg knew Sherlock’s brother.

And he’d called him _Mycroft_.

 

**-2**

Sherlock had left me behind, like usual, and I texted him as I stood panting against a wall. He messaged back a minute later.

 

_On the trail, will call you soon. Love you - S_

 

I sighed. Bloody Sherlock, he always ran off and left me behind. I badly wanted to throttle him. My phone pinged again and I glanced down at it.

 

_Have something to eat - S_

 

With a head roll I looked around and realised that wouldn’t be a bad idea. The past week had been hectic what with the surgery, the case, and Sherlock jumping me an hour earlier. I really needed something to eat and decided to find a cafe.

There was a small one two streets over and I headed inside to order a sandwich. I paid and turned to lean against the counter, popping open my coke and taking a sip.

I nearly choked when I spotted the two people by the window. They were leaning over the small table chatting softly, both smiling. Maybe I could sneak out without them realising I was there...

Mycroft Holmes turned and caught sight of me. He quickly pulled away from Greg and the DI turned to see me. His eyes went wide and he looked away, clearing his throat.

My roll was ready and I grabbed it, heading over to them. ‘Afternoon.’

‘Good afternoon, Dr Watson,’ Mycroft said politely.

‘John,’ Greg murmured.

‘So...’ I said and smiled at them, sipping my coke. ‘What are you two doing here?’

‘Just talking,’ Mycroft said.

‘About Sherlock?’ I asked.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow and Greg said, ‘Yep, about Sherlock. You know; updates and whatnot.’

‘Yes, about Sherlock,’ Mycroft agreed.

They were absolutely lying. I couldn’t get anything from Mycroft; as usual the man was an enigma. But Greg was blushing, purposely leaning away from Mycroft. Their knees were touching under the table and neither man seemed to mind.

There was an intimacy about them that was so bloody obvious it made me smile.

‘Dr Watson?’ Mycroft asked.

‘Erm, sorry, just thinking,’ I said.

‘What are you doing here?’ Greg asked. ‘Seems out of the way.’

It was. The cafe was nowhere near Baker Street or the surgery but Sherlock had brought me this way because of the case. I also realised it was pretty far from New Scotland Yard and the office I’d met up with Mycroft in all those months ago (I really doubted it was his real office). So why would Greg and Mycroft go to a small, out of the way cafe that was so far from their places of business at one o’clock in the afternoon?

‘I could ask you the same thing,’ I finally said and watched Greg’s cheeks darken.

‘I was in the area,’ Mycroft commented smoothly, ‘Gregory was working a crime nearby and I asked if he’d join me for lunch. Busy schedules mean we rarely get to eat.’

I had a feeling that the word together should have ended that sentence. There was no way this was their first time having lunch together. And Gregory, really? He called him _Gregory_.

‘Hmm, yes,’ I said. ‘Well, may I join you? I don’t want to walk all the way back to Baker Street with a roll and I’m kind of hungry.’ I paused and looked at them both carefully. ‘Unless I’m interrupting something?’

‘No, of course not,’ Greg said quickly. Too quickly.

‘Yes, please join us,’ Mycroft said and gestured to the spare seat.

I sat down and unwrapped my roll as Greg and Mycroft leaned back in their seats. We fell into silence and I looked up every few seconds to see Mycroft and Greg glancing at each other.

‘So, what were you talking about?’ I asked.

‘Sherlock,’ Greg said quickly.

‘Oh? What case?’

Greg paused, looking at me. He licked his lips and said, ‘Erm... the... the mummy one.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah, you know,’ he said slowly and looked at Mycroft. ‘I was just telling Mycroft about the... the mummy.’

‘And what do you think, Mycroft?’ I asked and looked at the elder Holmes.

He actually seemed lost for words and I smiled.

‘Um... fascinating,’ he managed after a second. ‘Very fascinating.’

‘Yeah, with the chalk, and the wig,’ Greg said.

‘Quite,’ Mycroft nodded.

Jesus Christ, were they really going to keep up this charade?

‘Yeah, yeah,’ I said slowly.

Mycroft cleared his throat suddenly and said, ‘I’m afraid I have to go; Britain doesn’t run itself.’

‘No, you run it,’ Greg said and Mycroft chuckled.

‘I really do wish you’d stop saying that.’

Greg just smiled. It seemed like something they said often to each other and didn’t help the secret they were trying to keep.

They stared at each other for a minute before Mycroft cleared his throat. Greg realised he’d been staring and turned away quickly.

‘Gentlemen, lunch was wonderful. Gregory, it was a pleasure.’

‘Yes, until next time, Mycroft,’ Greg smiled.

Mycroft turned to me. ‘Always lovely to see you, Dr Watson.’

I just nodded and watched the elder Holmes slip out of the cafe. I scooted my chair across the floor to look at Greg better.

‘What?’ he asked and bit into the burger he’d abandoned when I sat down.

‘Seriously?’ I said.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said.

I snorted. ‘You are such a bad liar.’

‘I am not.’

Looking at him carefully, I sipped my coke and put my roll down. ‘Greg, are you and Mycroft–’

I was cut off by the DI’s phone and he grabbed it quickly, answering with a hurried, ‘Lestrade.’ He sighed in relief. ‘Yeah, I’ll be there in twenty.’ He flipped his phone shut and stood. ‘There’s been a murder, sorry.’

‘I thought you already had a case.’

Greg swallowed and said, ‘Erm, same one.’

‘Oh?’ I said and raised my eyebrows.

He nodded quickly. ‘Yes, well... I’ll see you later.’

And he left as fast as he could. I grinned and leaned back in my seat. Okay, there was definitely something going on there. I just had to find out before telling Sherlock.

Jesus Christ was he going to have fun with this.

 

**-1**

I got home from a long day to find Mycroft Holmes waiting. He twirled his umbrella as I asked, ‘Who let you in?’

Mycroft smirked. ‘A simple lock cannot keep my out.’

I yawned and headed into the kitchen. ‘Can I get you anything?’

‘A cup of tea would be lovely,’ Mycroft answered.

I grumbled to myself as I made the tea, carrying the mugs into the living room. I handed Mycroft his and he thanked me softly. ‘Why are you here?’

‘To talk to Sherlock.’

‘I don’t know where he is.’

‘I do.’

‘Where?’ I demanded and Mycroft chuckled.

‘He is quite alright, Dr Watson. I assure you that Sherlock will be here momentarily.’

‘And he’s okay?’

‘Yes,’ Mycroft nodded.

Thank God. I hadn’t heard from Sherlock all day and had been starting to worry. No doubt he was off hunting down some bloody criminal.

The front door thumped open and Lestrade stumbled in carrying Sherlock. They both looked battered and bruised and I rushed to their side.

‘Sherlock?’

‘He’s fine, just exhausted,’ Greg said and helped me carry Sherlock to the couch. Mycroft stood to hover over his brother as we got him comfortable. Sherlock’s face was a bit bruised but he looked okay. He was unconscious, though, and I turned to Greg.

‘What happened?’

‘He led us to a flat where the suspect lives,’ Greg explained. ‘We waited for backup but Sherlock being Sherlock, well... he ran in there and got hurt.’

‘You said he was fine,’ Mycroft growled and we looked at him. His eyes were roaming over Sherlock carefully.

‘He was,’ Greg said, ‘but then I hung up and he ran inside.’

Mycroft sighed. ‘Is he okay?’ I asked.

‘Absolutely,’ Greg nodded. ‘I had a paramedic look him over. A few bruises and not enough sleep or food. Let him rest and make sure he eats; he’ll be fine.’

I nodded and kept my eyes on Sherlock as Mycroft stepped closer to Greg. ‘What happened to you?’ he asked and raised a hand to brush it along Greg’s bruised cheek. The DI looked no better than Sherlock and I realised I should have asked him how he was.

‘Fine, I’m fine,’ Greg said. ‘The guy got a few punches in but I’m good.’

‘You have a concussion,’ Mycroft said. He dropped his hand and it lingered near Greg’s, practically screaming to reach out and connect.

‘A concussion isn’t that bad,’ Greg said. ‘I just have to stay up all night.’ He looked at Mycroft carefully and the elder Holmes brother smiled.

‘I see.’

‘See what?’ I asked.

They both jumped, seeming to have forgotten I was in the room.

‘Gregory has to stay up all night and I said I see,’ Mycroft said.

‘Uh huh,’ I smirked and looked between them pointedly. I raised an eyebrow and Mycroft stepped back.

‘My brother is in capable hands,’ he said and smiled. ‘Gregory, would you like a lift home?’

‘Absolutely,’ Greg smiled and nodded at me before leaving. Mycroft closed the door with a snap.

I sat beside Sherlock and stroked his hair, just glad he was okay. He rolled over a bit and his hand found mine, squeezing in his sleep.

I smiled and whispered, ‘Sherlock, you’ll never believe it.’ I paused to make sure he was still asleep before saying, ‘I’m pretty sure Mycroft is dating Lestrade.’

 

**0**

A month later my suspicions were confirmed in a very embarrassing way. Once again Sherlock was bed-ridden due to acting like a blazing idiot. I had to stop around Scotland Yard to give my statement after making sure Sherlock was knocked out on sleeping pills.

I rode the elevator in silence, whistling as I headed up. It was late, around two am, and I was dead tired. But I wanted to spend the next day, or today I guess it was, with Sherlock and didn’t want to have to come into Scotland Yard. I knew Greg would still be up filling out paper work so I had high hopes that he was in his office.

Stepping out of the elevator, I turned to walk through the dark desks, noting one or two officers hunched over files. The light was on in Greg’s office; the blinds were drawn, the door shut.

I decided to knock lightly but there was no answer. I tried again and there was a curse, a fumble. ‘Greg?’

Still no answer and I frowned before pushing the door open.

‘OH MY GOD!’

Okay, not my proudest moment, but really it wasn’t something I’d planned on seeing. So shouting _Oh my God!_ in a quiet office is acceptable, alright?

Greg and Mycroft were both naked, Greg standing behind his desk pulling on his shirt. Mycroft had been in the process of grabbing his trousers and held them before his crotch. He was quite fit with light ginger chest hair that disappeared down to–

‘Oh. My. _God_.’

‘John, shit,’ Greg growled and started doing up his shirt. It wouldn’t be helpful seeing as how his trousers and underwear were at my feet.

‘ _Oh-my–_ ’

‘God, yes, we know,’ Mycroft scowled, still naked. He was blushing now and I grinned. ‘A little privacy please?’

‘Um, yeah, ’course,’ I said. ‘Greg, I’ll... I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Yup, right,’ Greg said and ran a hand through his messy hair. I noticed the condom box and bottle of lube on the desk and couldn’t help but smirk. Really, I was tired, hungry, and wanted my boyfriend. Forgive me for getting a little silly.

‘Good brand, that.’

‘OUT!’ Greg shouted.

I decided it was time to retreat and shut the door quickly. I leaned against it and giggled.

It all made sense. After Sherlock and I had got together, Mycroft had actually been a little jealous that Sherlock had me. And he’d been attracted to me; that explained the sudden exit.

The picture of Zacharias Montenegro was a sore subject for both brothers because Sherlock had had a crush on Zacharias. But it had been Mycroft he’d dated. That explained the waist-holding, the scowling, and probably why Sherlock and Mycroft had such a foul relationship.

Mycroft telling Greg that Sherlock and I were together was obvious now. It had come up on one of their many dates no doubt.

The lunch, another obvious one; they’d gone to an out of the way cafe to avoid detection from both the people Greg worked with and Sherlock.

The concussion; Greg had to stay up and had given Mycroft a raised eyebrow... sex, right, right.

And that, in there, in the office. A four-year-old would know what the two men were doing. Sex... public sex... in Greg’s _office_.

Gregory Lestrade was gay.

Mycroft Holmes was gay.

And they were _dating_.

I chuckled as I walked away, deciding that I’d give the DI my statement later.

Sherlock was _so_ not going to believe this.

 

**+1**

Mycroft Holmes seemed smug as hell when Sherlock and I took our seats. Greg was directly opposite me with Sherlock on my left, Mycroft on my right. The invitation had been out of the blue; Mycroft texting me to ask me and Sherlock to join him and Greg for dinner. Sherlock hadn’t wanted to come but curiosity got the better of him.

I smiled and said, ‘Hello.’

‘Hi,’ Greg said, ‘glad you could make it.’

‘Yes, we’re thrilled you and Sherlock could be here, Dr Watson,’ the elder Holmes said and smirked at his brother.

Sherlock scowled. He’d been so very pissed off when I’d informed him that Mycroft and Greg were together. He hadn’t believed it, hadn’t believed that they could keep such a thing a secret from him. I’d suggested that maybe they hadn’t been together long and Sherlock had looked at me like was an idiot (which was nothing new, really).

He’d shouted something like, ‘ _Honestly, John, my brother is not the kind of person to have sex in an office for a one-night stand! They would have had to have been dating_ months _for Mycroft to feel comfortable enough to do that!_ ’ And then he’d torn at his hair, grabbed his skull, and curled up with it on the couch to swear.

Sherlock was running his eyes over Mycroft carefully and Mycroft just smiled as he ordered wine. Sherlock’s eyes flicked over to Greg, who ordered a beer. I copied the DI and Sherlock completely ignored the waiter. I got him wine and the poor lad left to get our drinks.

‘Erm, so, how are we all?’ I asked to break the silence.

‘Quite alright,’ Mycroft said. He had his legs crossed, his delicate hands resting on his knees. He just smiled at his little brother. Greg looked at him and sighed.

‘I’m great,’ he said.

‘Mm-hmm,’ I smiled.

Greg rolled his eyes at me.

‘So, what is everyone having?’ Mycroft asked calmly, picking up his menu. ‘The lamb is quite delectable.’

‘Mycroft,’ Greg sighed.

‘Oh, yes, of course,’ Mycroft said. ‘Salad then. Caesar salad?’

‘With no bacon,’ his partner nodded.

‘Yes, of course.’

Sherlock scowled and I looked at all three of them. ‘Alright, the short guy’s lost,’ I said.

Greg chuckled and Mycroft smiled pleasantly as Sherlock turned to me. ‘Lestrade is a vegetarian,’ he explained, ‘and it seems Mycroft is too.’

‘Hardly,’ Mycroft said. ‘Gregory has simply informed me that there are certain things we cannot do if I eat meat in front of him or within a few hours of meeting him.’

I looked at Greg, who blushed. Mycroft just smiled (really, it’s like his face was permanently set on ‘smile’ tonight) and Sherlock scowled (that seemed to be his default setting at the moment).

‘Though I may make the change permanent,’ Mycroft continued. ‘I find I dislike meat after going so long without it; makes me feel a bit ill.’

‘Changing your diet for a DI?’ Sherlock asked.

‘No,’ Mycroft said, ‘changing my diet for my health and for the man I love.’

The smile on Greg’s face could have powered London for a week. I’d never seen him so happy. Mycroft reached over and took his hand, kissing it softly.

Sherlock scowled.

Our drinks arrived followed shortly by dinner. Sherlock had ordered a large red steak and cut into it angrily. Greg had some type of vegetarian pasta, Mycroft his salad, and me chicken. We talked about miscellaneous things, skirting crime and politics because Greg and Mycroft didn’t want to talk about work. Sherlock was amazingly silent, sulking as he played with his food.

Soon it was time for dessert and we all sat eating chocolate cake, ice cream and pudding. Sherlock made a mess of his plate and fork, dunking the utensil into the chocolate violently. Finally he lost it when Greg and Mycroft kissed.

‘How could you keep this from me?’

Greg broke the kiss quickly and Mycroft sighed, turning to face his brother. ‘Excuse me?’

‘How could you keep this from me?’ Sherlock demanded again. ‘How were you able to keep this a secret?’

‘Sherlock,’ I warned but my boyfriend ignored me.

‘It is clear you two love each other and are planning on moving into Mycroft’s very sterile flat,’ the consulting detective continued. ‘You started dating one year ago, sleeping together nine months ago, and borrowing each other’s clothes eight months ago. How could I not notice the shirts? Or the cologne? Or the messages, the looks, everything? I don’t understand.’

Mycroft smiled at his brother and leaned back, keeping one hand wrapped around Greg’s. ‘We didn’t want you to ruin this, Sherlock.’

‘Me? What would I have done?’

We all stared at him.

‘Don’t look at me like that!’ he snapped.

‘Honestly, Sherlock, we didn’t like hiding it from you,’ Greg said. ‘But Mycroft and I wanted to date in peace. We didn’t want you making rude comments every time you saw one of us.’

‘What makes you think I would have ruined it?’

I squirmed in my seat. ‘Sherlock, you never miss an opportunity to make fun of your brother. Obviously they both thought you’d make fun of them and sometimes your teasing hurts. One small comment from you and one of them would have pulled out of the relationship.’

Sherlock stared at me as did Mycroft and Greg.

‘Seriously?’ Sherlock asked. ‘That’s why?’ He turned back to his brother.

‘Yes,’ Mycroft said and Greg nodded.

Sherlock fell to sit back down. He crossed his arms. ‘You think so little of me. I would never have messed up the relationship if you were serious about each other. I’m not _that_ cold-hearted.’

‘This was before you started dating John,’ Greg said.

‘You were a lot worse before you and Dr Watson became an item, Sherlock,’ Mycroft said, ‘or have you forgotten?’

Sherlock scowled and looked away. ‘No,’ he said hotly.

‘You would have done the same, Sherlock,’ Mycroft said. ‘You never would have told me about you and John if I hadn’t found out on my own.’

‘Having a surveillance team spy on me is not finding out on your own, Mycroft,’ Sherlock snapped.

‘You know what I mean.’

Sherlock grumbled. ‘Fine, yes.’

‘Yes?’ Mycroft said.

Sherlock sighed dramatically and looked at his brother. I smiled. ‘Fine, yes, I understand. You wanted to give the relationship a chance. Fine, fine, that’s just fine. This doesn’t affect me anyway so carry on.’

‘You really don’t care?’ Mycroft asked.

‘Of course I care, brother,’ Sherlock said and looked at him carefully, ‘just not in a bad way.’

I nearly bloody cried. Because that, for the Holmes brothers, was practically a hug and declaration of love. Greg looked equally stunned and Mycroft was speechless.

And then Sherlock, being Sherlock, said, ‘Maybe Lestrade’s vegetarianism will help you lose weight. You’ve gained about three pounds since I last saw you.’

He stuck his fork into his mouth and sucked loudly.

Mycroft smiled and said, ‘And perhaps John will make you get a haircut; really, you look like a seven-year-old girl.’

‘At least I have hair,’ Sherlock scowled.

‘More hair doesn’t make you more attractive,’ Mycroft bit back.

‘Neither does more weight.’

‘Don’t eat too much chocolate, Sherlock, you know what it does to your face.’

‘Do you have some sexual fetish for umbrella’s we’re not aware of?’

‘What about you and those scarves?’

‘It gets cold.’

‘It rains.’

They continued bickering and I looked at Greg. We shared a smile as the siblings went neck-to-neck, bringing up twenty-year-old arguments.

Finally dinner came to a close and we parted ways outside. I felt Sherlock’s hand in my own and squeezed it as my boyfriend planted a kiss on my cheek. I turned to see Mycroft wrap an arm around Greg’s waist and pulled him in close as they walked down the street.

Now I no longer had to wonder about Mycroft Holmes.


End file.
